


a story of our own

by bearmons



Category: Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-05-20 06:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19371280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearmons/pseuds/bearmons
Summary: Irene has come second in her life for a good five years now, with no one more important to her than her daughter, Lillian. Working her usual 9 to 8 at the local grocery store wasn't what she had in mind for herself, but it's as good as she can get with what she has. She's never asked for anything more when Lillian came into her life, but that manager position did look good, the pay rise even better.A life lived not for herself, it takes her neighbour to pull her out from the hole she dug in herself to fit her daughter, and push her to live for the both of them.She doesn't know when Seulgi became part of her story, but already becoming a main character in Lillian's life means she trusts the woman with her entire life.Will Seulgi help Irene achieve her happily ever after?





	1. our routine

**Author's Note:**

> I have a thing for neighbours who live in opposite apartments it seems... Just another one of my short babbles, thought the concept would be cute. Hope y'all enjoy :)

The battle is like no other she’s ever been in before. Her most trusted horse trots heavily beneath her, its neighs loud and mighty, as if it’s resolution to come out of this battle as the victor as strong as her own. Casualties, her people, lie all around her, an image she will never be able to forget. Dying for her cause, their cause, a sacrifice she will not let be in vain.

Try as she might, the enemies only get stronger, smarter, and more merciless.

Her sword still heavy in her hands, like it was the first time she had picked it up only mere months ago, pulls her body with as she swings it to slay her opponents, its heavy end meeting flesh and clanging against just as heavy counterparts.

She’s tired. Oh, how very tired she is.

Seeing her once beautiful land of lush green and jovial faces now desecrated with ash, blood and bodies. Her castle is wounded with cannonball destruction, her father’s flag, may he rest in peace, barely flutters in the wind now, burnt to soot with its once gleaming golden pole washed over with the crimson of the body that lies impaled on it.

Everything’s wrong. Has been for a long time. But just how long must she fight for it to be right?

Her horse jostles under her, struck with fear as it voices out to her, jerking her left in time for her to see her enemy’s new weapon. Scales larger than any she’s ever seen before, it shimmers a frightening maroon as its tremendous wings sweep across her army, taking them out with the sheer force of the tornado it creates, travelling across the expanse of the battle field before it turns into a breeze slapping her face.

A dragon.

Only alive in her father’s folklore, she never knew them to actually exist.

With their new target now on the field, she lets out a battle cry that rains across her people as they let out a scream of their own, even her horse follows along. All weapons converge towards a main target now, keen to bring the flying beast down before it becomes the end of them.

Becomes the end of her empire.

Raising her sword high towards the sky, she kicks her heels into her horse’s ribs, a yelp is the initial response before her steed leaps into long gallops towards what may be her doom. The overbearing sun strikes down onto her sword, reflecting off the purple gemstone of the royal’s, catching the towering beast in its blinding glint.

Its attention is caught, and it lets out a roar that shakes the ground beneath her. With one enormous flap of its mighty wings, it swoops down towards her in an unmoving nosedive.

It’s now or never. Keeping her sword steady, she trains the point of her blade at the approaching beast.

Readying for impact, she lets out what could possibly be her last cry as the beast’s face now comes crashing down towards he-

“Lily, time to go ho-.”

A high-pitched “Mummy!” fills the air before the Spyro plush crashes into Lillian Bae’s face when the sudden appearance of her mother breaks her chain of imagination. Arms come to catch her around her waist before she could meet the floor, and she falls with a small oomph when she collides into the chest of her supposed trusty steed.

“What’s going on in here.”

Standing in the door-frame is Irene Bae, still in her work uniform, arms crossed and grocery bags littering her feet. Eyes take in the absolute mess around her. From an array sea of little green army men, to two separate fans both turned on in different corners, and finally at the dangling dragon plush hanging on a strand of wool taped from one end of the room to the other, Irene is baffled as usual upon arriving home. She directs her questioning eyes to the woman now cushioned between the floorboards against her back and the toddler in her arms.

“Bedtime story?”

Lily giggles at the nervous waver leaving the woman beneath her, only to laugh more heartedly when eyes dart down at her, begging for help.

“A bedtime story is supposed to put her to sleep, Seulgi. She looks as far from sleepy as she ever has.”

Seulgi Kang lets the explanation dawn on her, glancing from mother to daughter and nods at the sparkling eyes of the toddler staring up at her in amusement. Far from sleep is correct. With a cheeky grin that Lily mimics, Seulgi rolls them over, staying in her position for a second as she blankets the toddler until Lily grunts and starts kicking at her to gain oxygen once more.

“You’re squishing me!” She thunders from under Seulgi, causing her to chuckle with just as much enthusiasm before a rolled-up catalogue smacks her into calling defeat.

“Stop trying to crush my child.”

Sitting on her shins, Seulgi raises her arms like she used to in school when she got into trouble, watching with heavy betrayal as Lily giggles, stumbling up into a run to crash into her mother’s legs with a welcoming home hug.

“Hey baby, have a good time?”

Both mother and daughter ignore her existence now, so she drops her arms to crawl towards the grocery bags still at the door.

“Yeah! We finger painted, and, and, Seulgi helped me make a sword!” Little feet stamp against the floorboard as they run to retrieve the fallen sword from before. Presenting it to Irene like it was some sort of amazing artwork, Irene feigns astonishment as she stares down at the cut-out cardboard sword, painted patchy white with a blotchy purple circle on the blade (not the handle where it’s meant to be). “We were about to beat the dragon before you came home.”

The rustling of plastic bags has her diverging her attention from her daughter to Seulgi, who is now snooping through her bags, still in her crawling position with one hand pawing at the openings as to not fully intrude inside. Rolling her eyes, she smiles back down at her daughter, sliding her messy hair from her face.

“That sounds great, honey. Ready to go home?”

With nods that push tresses of locks back into her face, Irene tries once more to fix it before letting her palm rest at the back of Lily’s head, gently guiding her towards the door. Where Seulgi still blocks.

“And if I may ask: just what are you doing?”

Hopeful eyes shift towards her, the silent question, and mostly expectation, pouring out from them as a response as good as any.

“The furthest bag from you,” she barely gets out before Seulgi goes sliding against the floor towards the mentioned bag. “I really don’t know how you’re still alive. You have the unhealthiest diet.” Her reprimanding falls on deaf ears as packets of biscuits are hauled out from the bag, before Seulgi rips one open and begins munching down. “Why don’t you eat anything else besides ladyfingers?”

Crumbs come flying out as Seulgi tries to explain, but everything comes out muffled and Irene can’t help but look on with disgust. She doesn’t need to understand the woman anyways, she’s asked enough times to know the answer by now: because they’re delicious! Is always the answer. Easy and simple.

“You better have fed Lily proper food and not your usual junk.”

She catches Seulgi in between her stuffing her face to get a decent enough answer. “I did! I swear. Cooked your prepped meal you dropped off.”

She squints her eyes at the woman, still seated on the floor, before sighing because there’s no winning with her. “Good.” She looks down at her daughter that had detached from her leg to go bonk the dragon plush on the head with her homemade sword, following its sway in the air before going in for another hit like it was a piñata. “If she grows up violent, I’m suing you.”

Seulgi can only laugh at the threat, waving off the glare. “I’m just building her imagination, nothing more.”

Irene hums at the innocent answer before moving to coerce her daughter into going home over defeating “the beast” as the toddler tries to explain.

“Thank you for babysitting Lily, again.” Irene watches as Seulgi places the grocery bags on her kitchen island. The woman turns to her to wave her thanks off, grinning a: don’t worry about it. “How’s the book coming along?” She leans against the armrest of her couch, Seulgi doing the same but on the pillar the kitchen island is fused against.

Seulgi shrugs. Looks around the apartment a bit then back at her. “It’s coming.” She shrugs again.

“Writer’s block still?”

Once again, she shrugs. “It comes and goes. Mostly comes and stays, but still.”

She nods at the answer, not really understanding the process, but understanding the stump, nonetheless. She stares at the woman for a bit, finally noticing the small eye-bags forming and just how tired she looks overall. Not something she’s really ever been aware of from how cheery Seulgi always is.

“I can drop her off at a day-care tomorrow. Give you some alone time and rest.”

Blinking for a second, it’s almost as if Seulgi had to regain her concentration before she pushes herself off the pillar. And once again, the bright aura is back, and Irene doesn’t have to wonder why she’s never been conscious of the woman’s other moods besides this. Seulgi is just always happy. Or is good at turning that happiness on.

“No, no. You’re saving for that fancy school for her, remember. And besides, I have nothing else going on. Not much of an alone time type of gal.” When Irene doesn’t look like she’s backing down, Seulgi falls to her default shrug. “She helps turn my engines. Who has a better imagination than a child?”

Irene instantly smiles at that and can’t help but quip, “you.”

Seulgi chuckles with Irene for a bit before she lets out a small sigh. “Not lately, I haven’t.”

Not liking the tonal shift, Irene immediately tries to comfort her. “From the wild journey Lily hasn’t stopped raving on about, I think it’s safe to say you’ve still got it. Just,” she tries making gestures with her hands because honestly, having a writer’s block as an author is something she has no knowledge about. “Having trouble tapping into it?”

Seulgi smiles at her attempt, more than appreciative for the kind gesture behind it. She pushes herself off the pillar with a nod. “I’ll hold you to that. Anyways, it’s getting late and you must be tired. How was work?”

Always the considerate one, Seulgi never lets their conversation dwell on herself too much. “Tiring, I guess. Was on the registers all day today, so my feet hurt from being immobile for the entire shift. But, nothing new really.”

The smile Seulgi gives her is warm. “Well, you should get some rest then. Drop her off normal time?”

“Normal time.”

Seulgi bids her goodnight at her door before slipping through her still open one just across from Irene’s.

❀❀

"Remember, your spare key is in this pocket here," Irene quickly runs through their morning routine. Squatting to be face level with Lily, she points at the specific compartment in the toddler’s Mickey Mouse backpack, making sure she gets a nod of understanding from her daughter. Still dressed in her pyjamas, Lily had said something on the lines of Seulgi promising her that they’d build some type of fort today, so she was adamant in staying in her pyjamas. “My phone number is?” Nodding when Lily relays the order of numbers Irene had made her memorise, she moves onto her next checklist. “Dinner by 6pm, and when Seulgi tries to give you any of her snacks you say?”

“No! They’re bad for you so they’re worse for me!”

Irene can’t help but laugh at the soldier like scream coming from her daughter. She had never meant for Lily to quote her, a no was sufficing enough, but it was still funny hearing it, if only she could see Seulgi’s face when Lily screams it at her.

Finally, happy with checking everything off, she gives Seulgi’s door three knocks. Something falls from behind the door, sounding very familiar to that of a pot falling, before the locks click and Irene is presented with Seulgi dressed in khaki coloured joggers and shirt. But never mind the colour scheme choice, what more is the two black lines (Irene is certain she finger-painted her own face) slapped on both her cheeks, and she was correct, a pot atop her head. Taking a quick glimpse into the apartment, she spots an overturned couch, a good armful of nerf guns behind it and army men lined up all along the kitchen island, atop the fridge and sink. Where there is space there is an army man. Just what is this woman up to today?

“Sergeant Lillian, thank god you’re here.”

She sees her daughter bouncing on the spot, eager to play along but still waiting for Irene to let go of her hand and send her off. Just seeing how excited she was has Irene’s chest blooming. The sight makes her more grateful for Seulgi. The woman in mind looks up from the energised child to Irene, giving her a quick wink before she continues her role-play.

“Quick Sergeant! You must get on the plane!”

The small hand in hers tug to gain her attention. Puppy-dog eyes and a pout, Lily is almost shaking from the anticipation. “Mummy! Mummy, please! Can I go play!”

Who in their right mind can say no to that?

“Give mummy her goodbye hug and kiss first.”

She crouches down in time to catch her daughter bouldering into her arms. She gives her a tight squeeze before Lily wiggles in her hold to give her her customary kiss on the cheek.

“Okay, go have fun.”

A squeal of utmost glee leaves her daughter before she zooms through the door with a loud “have fun at work, mummy!”

Seulgi runs after her and catches her sprinting body, spinning her in the air as she mimics the sound of a plane engine. Irene stays a bit, watching Seulgi jog around the living room before she settles behind the toppled couch.

Seeing as she’s been forgotten by now, she closes Seulgi’s door just in time to hear a flurry of fake bullets being shot. She swears, if her Lily turns violent, Seulgi will beg for mercy. Shaking her head with a small smile at hearing her daughter’s tinkling laughter leak through the door, Irene straightens out her red work vest and name-tag that Lily knocked during the hug.

With a sigh, she leaves Lily and Seulgi’s harmonious laughter and heads to work.


	2. our comfort

Her feet have a slight throb to them, as they usually do by the time she clocks out. Irene is standing by her work locker, deciding on leaving her work vest and name-tag in there tonight or not, especially after the day she’s had. Just as she goes to shrug the red vest off, two knocks on her opened locker door catches her attention.

“Hey mama, how you doin’?

Stuck in some punk rock phase is, funnily enough, her best friend at work. A 24-year-old college dropout by the name of Seungwan Son, who is now leaning against the closed locker beside Irene’s. Honestly, the first time Irene had met her, the young woman had scared the heebie-jeebies out of her. But then again, she had caught Wendy, never call her by her real first name unless you’ve already picked out your coffin, on a bad day. With a blonde and burgundy two-toned hair, septum piercing and a glare that makes you wish you were blind to un-see it, Wendy was the type of woman you want having your back. And she’s glad she does, because she’s had men and women alike running from the store, wishing they had never picked on little Irene.

Someone who had taken a liking to Wendy from the first glance was Lily. She found her cool. From her hair, to her nose earring, Wendy had Lily gushing at how cool she is. Before Seulgi ever came into the picture as Lily’s permanent playdate, Wendy had been the person who offered looking after the little one in the break-room when Irene’s shift ran longer than usual. The two hung out together for so long, Wendy had adopted the nickname mama for her.

Irene grabs the offered chocolate bun from Wendy, giving the bread an odd look before diverting the look to the woman now tearing bites from her own piece. “Hot cross bun? It’s February.”

Wendy shrugs with a look of utmost disinterest. “It’s Easter somewhere.”

She can’t help but let out a small laugh, because it’s definitely not Easter anywhere. There’s something about Wendy’s entire aura and being the epitome of I couldn’t care less that has always tickled her humour. Maybe Lily was right. With a nod to acknowledge her excuse, Irene tucks the chocolate delight into her mouth, continuing her task of shrugging her vest off.

“You didn’t answer me. How are you?”

“Tired.”

“You’re always tired.” Wendy waves it off. “I’m talkin’ ‘bout before. That dickhead didn’t get to you, did he?”

Irene lets her honest answer swim around her mouth, her lips twisting to let her emotions out, but she’s a pro at this now. Calming her thudding heart, she lets her hurt die on her tongue before turning to Wendy with a clean smile she has perfected. “Nah, not worth it.”

Wendy slams a hand down on her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “That’s my girl.”

Making sure everything’s hung right, Irene unhooks her bag and goes to close her locker before her friend cuts her off again. “Lil’ draw that?” A finger points to the new paper taped onto the inside locker door.

Irene automatically smiles at seeing Lily’s artwork. That’s the sole reason why her entire locker door was plastered with a slew of Lily’s drawings and pictures. Holding a corner of the paper, Irene halts her actions of leaving to just stand there and appreciate her daughter. 

“Yeah, drew it last night.”

“That’s one big purple rat.” Wendy moves to point at the small stick figure smooshed to the side of the paper. “Is that her and,” she tilts her head to read what she could of 4-year-old’s handwriting. “Slug? Is she riding a slug?”

How incorrect but close Wendy was has Irene chuckling until her sides hurt. “Firstly, that’s not a rat. It’s a dragon. Spyro, to be exact. And secondly, no, that’s not a slug. It’s supposed to be a horse that my neighbour, Seulgi, was pretending to be.”

“Right. I can totally see it now. Wow, Picasso is shaking in his coffin.”

Irene chuckles at the comment, giving the drawing another admiration before closing her locker.

She can’t wait to get home to see what Lily has drawn for her today.

❀❀

Surprised is a feeling Irene should have become accustomed to feeling by now. But this sort of surprised is different from the rest, because opening Seulgi’s door to complete silence and darkness is something she’s not used to, or really has ever seen.

Maybe they’re asleep, Irene wonders as she steps into the quiet apartment. She catches a whiff of food that’s certainly not what she had packed for Lily. Good. Seulgi’s finally eating real food for once. Fumbling the wall for the light switch, she clicks it on. Only that no lights turn on.

Leave it to Seulgi to have something broken in her apartment. It was a long time coming, if you were to ask Irene.

She tries it again, because who knows. The second time she goes for it the living room lights turn on to a dull yellow light. Once again, Seulgi’s living room floor plan has changed. No couch, no rug, no nothing really besides a small wooden table and three seats smack dab under the glowing light. Details, such a Seulgi thing.

Small feet patter from down the hallway, catching her attention. Dressed in her Belle costume comes Lily, all smiles and something hidden behind her back. Just the sight of her has Irene smiling. Bounding to just in front of her, Lily pulls a, a pun had to have been intended, pink lily from behind her, presenting it to Irene.

“Will you be my Valentine, mummy?”

The innocent and pure question has something tugging at the back of Irene’s throat. The contrast from what had happened at work before has her eyes welling without her consent, and Irene must look away from her beaming daughter to hide her incoming tears.

“You made mummy cry, Seulgi!”

Irene is laughing at how badly this most likely planned event is going, because another echo of feet running from down the hall now joins them. Yelling her innocence, nonetheless.

“I certainly did not!”

“You said this was going to make mummy happy!”

“Maybe she’s crying from happiness!” Seulgi is bantering with her daughter like she was also 4, before quickly turning to Irene with concern knitting at her brows. “Irene, you okay?”

“No! Because you made her sad!”

“No, I didn’t!” Seulgi’s neck would snap if she turns her head down to Lily and up to Irene any faster. “Irene, why’re you crying?”

Irene’s laughing through her tears at Seulgi’s panicking. Dabbing her eyes, she bends down to hug Lily, sighing into her daughter’s tangles of hair when she feels her little arms tighten around her shoulders. “I’m not sad, baby. Just happy. Very happy.” Moving to look at her daughter, she gives her nose a peck to wash the worry away. “And yes, I’d be honoured to be your valentine.”

❀❀

“Seulgi and I made this.” Lily is on the edge of her booster seat between both Seulgi and Irene, showing off all the dishes to her.

Sat in the middle of Seulgi’s living room, Irene is treated to an odd slew of clashing dishes. On one side, there’s pancakes and scrambled eggs. And going around, she sees peanut butter sandwiches, a bowl of jelly then a plate of spaghetti and meatballs. “It looks delicious, baby.” She gives a smile to Lily to show her appreciation, before turning to look at Seulgi who mouths an: I made it. Irene rolls her eyes at how childish Seulgi can be, thinking: Right. Show off. But not really what she was questioning right at this moment.

Finally catching onto Irene’s gaze, Seulgi replies, “I asked Lily what your favourite food was.” Seulgi gives all the dishes a glance before chuckling, because honestly, it looks ridiculous all set up against each other. “Apparently all of this was your favourite, and Lily couldn’t decide what you liked better.”

The thought and effort warm Irene’s heart. They eat all this a lot because it’s cheap to make, not because it’s her favourite. But if Lily says so, then they’re all her favourite now.

It’s way past Lily’s dinner time, so Irene only allows her a spoonful of every dish. Which certainly seems enough, as Lily’s tucked under a blanket, fast asleep, on Seulgi’s couch.

Now sharing a glass of wine, after much convincing on Seulgi’s part, Irene folds into herself on her chair opposite Seulgi, who’s still ripping off small chunks of the peanut butter sandwich before popping them into her mouth.

“Thanks,” her breaking the comfortable silence takes Seulgi’s attention away from the sandwich. “For all of this. I haven’t celebrated Valentine’s Day since,” Irene thinks for a bit, “since the year I conceived Lillian.” A nostalgic smile greets Irene in her wine’s reflection, and she swishes it to swirl the look away.

“You deserve it.” It’s now her turn to tear her stare away from her beverage to look at Seulgi, who’s gone from ripping off pieces to just nibbling on the corners. “Everyone deserves to feel special, especially today.”

Irene smiles at how genuine Seulgi is with her words. It must be the wine, or that Seulgi is just that good with evoking emotions out of her, must be an author thing, because Irene is tearing up for the second time today in her apartment.

“Hey, I know I asked before, but are you really okay?” Seulgi’s voice comes out soft, almost a whisper, afraid of setting Irene off even more.

Wine glass now abandoned on the table, Irene laughs away her embarrassment for crying in front of Seulgi, trying with all her might to dab away at her tears. “I’m okay. It’s nothing you did,” she tries to clear the air just in case the woman thought it was her fault. “Just something a customer did today.”

“What’d they do?”

Irene humorously laughs again. Embarrassed and now hurt. “Just some prick,” she looks up at Seulgi to see a look that she’s never seen on the woman’s face before. Anger? She’s never really seen Seulgi with such an unhappy expression. “He just said some things. I guess I let it get to me.”

“What’d he say?”

She really doesn’t want to relive it, especially say those words again. But she does, because it’s Seulgi. “He was hitting on me, saying it’s valentine’s day and everything. I tried to reject him nicely, but he said he’ll make it worth my while, you know, make it special.” When Seulgi grunts with displeasure, Irene wanted to too. “When I rejected him again, he exploded in anger, gaining everyone’s attention. Started spewing how I wasn’t so hot anyways, which isn’t why I’m upset” she shakes her hands out to further deny that reason being why. “He just said,” she sighs, “that I was going to die alone and no wonder why I’m this old working at a grocery store,” Irene rolls her eyes closed to try and stop the next wave of tears threatening to fall, “it’s because no one else wants a bitch like me.” Irene whispers, not wanting to rehear all of this again.

“Hey,” Seulgi’s voice is so low, Irene wouldn’t have known she was even there if her hand didn’t move to hold hers. She didn’t even know when Seulgi had shifted to sit in Lily’s seat. “That prick doesn’t know what he’s saying. You just hurt his ego and pride, and he decided to grasp at straws to make his masculinity feel intact. You are none of those things he said. None of them, you hear me, Irene?” Irene nods at Seulgi’s words, and the reassuring smile Seulgi gives her makes her smile too.

“And besides,” she gives Irene’s hand a squeeze and pauses for a second. “You have Lily and me. Two valentine’s dates, that prick wishes he could even get one.” Irene laughs at Seulgi’s jab, the weight on her chest lifting already.

“You’re not alone, Irene.”

Irene squeezes the hand in her own. “I know."

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: quick beginning :)


End file.
